12. Callum

12

CALLUM

E very conversation with Rhys, whether by text or in person, had always felt easy and natural in a way I couldn't readily explain. With each message I sent him, I had been anxious for his response. I had been eager for anything I could learn about him. I convinced myself it was all ammunition to use against him, a necessity for my plans.

Now sitting across from him in tense silence, all I could think about was drawing out every bit of information he'd willingly give simply because I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know him. Maybe then I'd have a real shot at understanding why I was inexplicably both calmed and stimulated in his presence. It was a confounding sensation and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about it.

“So, you wanted to explain why you've been so horrible to me?” Rhys asked, eyes riveted on the table between us. We hadn't said a word to each other in nearly twenty minutes since we sat down, ordered food and waited for it to arrive. I admit it wasn't the smoothest start to our undefined, unconventional non-friendship, but fuck if I was giving up now we were here.

I let out a deep breath and fought to get my thoughts in order. “Right. I'm not trying to make excuses for why I've been such a dick, but you at least deserve the reason behind it.”

Rhys lifted his head and gave me a bemused look. “Uh, I think you were pretty clear about the reason. “Call my coach or else” didn't really leave a lot of room for interpretation.”

“Fair enough,” I winced. “But full disclosure, that was only part of it….”

“Okaaaay? Then what was the rest of it?” Worry colored his face and I squirmed in my seat. I hadn't had to explain myself to anyone like this before. I was two seconds away from saying screw it and bailing, but one glance at those magnetic eyes of his had the truth tumbling out of me.

“Look…I'm fucked up, Rhys. Yes, I was scared shitless thinking I'd lose my scholarship and be shoved back under the same roof as my aunt. I took all that anger and fear out on you because it felt like the only thing I could do to keep from spiraling. To put it bluntly, you took my control away and I fucking hated you for it. The only other time I've felt that way was living with her. Everything I had done to take back my life was so close to being ruined because of what you did, so I came after you.”

My confession was painful, but there was also a confusing amount of relief that came from confiding in him. I thought it would be difficult to be this candid about everything, but Rhys' patience and willingness to hear me out made it easier than it should have been.

“I didn't just want you to take back your complaint. I wanted you to feel everything I did because hurting you actually made me feel more in control,” I continued, shame pouring over me with each syllable. “Then you started talking to me and pushing back, and I kind of became obsessed with this thing between us. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was getting drawn in and you saw parts of me that I haven't let anyone see since my mom passed, and it pissed me off.”

“But why? I didn't push you to open up, you chose to do that. Why take it out on me like you did?” Rhys asked, anger and concern blending on his features as he pinned me with those bright, perceptive eyes. The contact between us had me feeling hot under the collar, my chest constricting in a way I'd only ever experienced with him.

“Fuck, I don't know, Rhys! There you were, this guy I was trying so hard to break, and you were getting to me . You proved me wrong on almost every thought I had about you. I thought you were a weak, boring twat who got his rocks off acting superior to people stronger than him. But I was wrong. You were strong and funny and insightful, and no matter what I did or said, you still fought to put me in my place. You refused to back down. It was infuriating as hell, but also impressive. I think I hated that the most,” I admitted on a mirthless laugh.

He sat there stunned, processing everything I had copped to. I was embarrassed by all I had told him, but it was worth it if it meant he would stay. I needed him to stay.

His cheeks flushed with color as he gave me a sheepish look. “Why did you…I mean, when you…”

He stumbled over his words, but clarity hit me about what he wanted to know.

“Why did I touch you all those times?” I hedged, the deepening blush on his skin giving me my answer. He just nodded and avoided my eyes. “In all honesty, the first time I just wanted to see if I could get away with it. Do something that would really throw you off and give me an idea how much I could fuck with you…”

Rhys' jaw dropped open and he looked mortified. I felt like such shit watching him wrestle with that truth.

“And seeing how…responsive you were, I knew that was the best way to…get to you. I know how sick that is, but it was anger and hatred that just went too far. I am so sorry Rhys,” I begged him to try to understand.

He was bright red and I saw the glassy evidence of his tears. I felt sick to my stomach. The thought of him hating me now made me want to smash my fist into the wall, the strength of that realization freaking me out.

“So…it didn't mean anything to you? You didn't…feel anything?” His voice had dropped so low that I almost missed his words. My gut clenched and my palms grew sweaty. He was asking me for answers that I had buried deep and avoided for weeks. Every sensation and emotion he had pulled out of me each time I touched him rushed back, nearly making me dizzy with the force of it.

I thought about his moans, his pulse pounding as I stroked him. I remembered his gasps and desperate pleas that had made my blood run hot. I could almost feel his length pulsing in my grip, his velvet throat sucking me down.

I couldn't lie and say I felt nothing with him. The truth was with Rhys, I had never felt more alive.

“I felt…” I started without knowing how to formulate a response to what he asked. I wasn't ready to let him know how much he affected me . I could only take so many revelations today before I broke. Rhys just looked at me expectantly, hope apparent in those stunning violet orbs and my heart beat rapidly against my ribcage.

How the fuck is he able to pull these reactions out of me so easily? I should walk away and leave him as a blip on my radar, but…I can't let him go.

“You felt…what?” Rhys pressed. My skin buzzed with energy and my vision narrowed until all I could see was him. Just like the other times he was near, the urge to touch him pulsated through me even though I had denied it to myself every time. I wanted to run my hand over his body until goosebumps chased my touch across his skin. I ached to brush my lips across the pale expanse of his throat and hear his breath catch.

It was as if the moment I allowed myself to see him in a different light, the latent attraction I had for him exploded. It barreled into me, shining a light on all the parts of him that were mesmerizing in their appeal. I wanted to run my fingers through those silky locks, kiss those pillowy lips that were trembling. I wanted to squeeze his tight, fuckable ass and rut against his lean, long body until he fell apart against me.

Well. It's official. I am 100% so fucking screwed.

“I felt…a lot more than you think,” I murmured, unable to profess anything more. Disappointment bled into the hope on his face, and I hated myself a bit more. “God, I am so sorry I pushed you like that, Rhys. You didn't deserve that. None of it,” I choked out.

“You didn't exactly push me,” Rhys muttered, looking anywhere but at me. “I could have said no if I wanted, but…it felt too good to stop, and I hadn't had that in a long time.”

I could tell his admission was embarrassing for him, but I was stuck on what he was implying.

“Wait, so you…you've done things like that before? I mean, you're not…” I trailed off, my pulse kicking up in anticipation of his answer. I hadn't known until that moment how I had secretly wished I was the only one to ever touch him like that, who had ever drawn pleasure from that sweet body of his.

Jesus, who am I right now? Is my drink spiked or something? Damn!

Rhys rolled his eyes, trying to mask how humiliating this line of conversation was for him. “No, I'm not a virgin. And yes, I've done things like that before. I mean, obviously not just like that, but you know what I mean. ”

My brain was all white noise and something dangerous thrummed in my veins. “With whom?” I blurted out.

He looked almost as surprised by my outburst as I had been by it. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to know or not, but my curiosity won out.

“My best friend in high school, Connor,” Rhys answered. “My hometown is pretty small and there were hardly any queer kids who lived there. It also didn't help that I'd been bullied on and off since third grade and wasn't winning any popularity contests, so my prospects were limited even more. I hadn't dated anyone by the time I was a senior, and I asked Connor if he would be my first. I figured it was a lot better to get my virginity out of the way with someone I loved and trusted completely than take my chances in college. Heck, I could've been a virgin for years if my crappy track record had continued.”

A foreign feeling rooted itself uncomfortably in my chest. I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat.

“What happened between you two?” I asked.

“We had initially promised it would just be a one-time thing. You know, get it out of the way and keep our friendship intact. We'd been best friends since we were nine years old, and neither of us wanted to jeopardize that. However, one time turned into two, then five, then more until we just didn't stop,” he continued. The wistful look in his eyes had my chest squeezing even tighter, and my leg was shaking restlessly under the table.

“Did you have feelings for him?” I didn't know what possessed me to ask, especially since it was none of my damn business, but I couldn't help myself.

The wistfulness morphed into a noticeable sadness, and I instantly wanted to take it back.

“I tried to convince myself I didn't, but the truth was I had liked Connor for years at that point. I had known he was Bi since freshman year, but he had never been with a guy before, so I didn't allow myself to hope he'd be with me. Then we started fooling around and being together like that, and I thought he'd eventually fall for me.”

“I'm guessing he didn't feel the same way?” I asked cautiously, not wanting him to stop opening up to me.

Rhys gave me a sad smile. “Not all best friends are meant to be lovers,” he said sullenly. “Once we left for college, he became more distant and we only saw each other a couple times that year when we both went home for holidays and stuff. Then sometime before our sophomore year, he met this girl Natalie and just…stopped talking to me. He told me about her after a few dates and promised to text me when he could, but then I never heard from him again. I think us throwing sex into the mix ultimately ruined our friendship.”

Seeing the despondency on his face had my nostrils flaring and my fists clenching reflexively. I suddenly recognized that burning, suffocating feeling in my chest as jealousy. Had I ever been jealous in my life? I couldn't think of a single instance, but there was little doubt that what I was feeling was a crushing envy for this dickhead who had taken Rhys' love and body and tossed him to the side like he meant nothing.

Kind of like you tossed him to the side multiple times, you twisted fucker?

Guilt rose up like bile in my throat as I fought to push it down, focusing instead on Rhys and the fact that he was trusting me with that part of himself even after everything I had done to him.

“I'm so sorry, Rhys. It's his loss if he couldn't see how special you are,” I told him sympathetically.

He shot me a look that I had trouble deciphering and worry clawed at me.

“What's wrong?” I carefully pressed.

“It's just weird hearing you be so…nice,” Rhys said, his tone exposing the underlying worry. I could only imagine his fears of this being an elaborate scheme to fuck him over even more, but that wouldn't happen. I couldn't pretend that I still hated him when the hate I used to hold had slowly dissolved with every interaction. I didn't exactly know what I wanted from Rhys, only that I wanted time with him to figure it out.

Each day, my head was a screeching cacophony of thoughts, like an orchestra tuning up in randomized chaos. Rhys was the conductor, waving his hands and bringing all the sounds together, the notes sliding into place in smooth harmony. He quieted the noise in my head, and I was addicted to the calm I felt with him.

“Well, I meant it. You are special, Rhys. I wouldn't be willing to do whatever it took to make things up to you if you weren't,” I told him, hoping he heard the sincerity in my voice.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to let you try, seeing as how you practically begged me for the opportunity,” Rhys smirked at me. His tease unfurled the knot in my gut that had been present since learning about that jagweed Connor and their history together.

“Let's not kid ourselves, Sweetness. We both know you're the one who begs in this dynamic,” I winked at him. For a split second, I thought I'd gone too far teasing him back, but Rhys' pink cheeks and rough swallow suggested I'd be forgiven.

“Yeah, well…I underestimated how talented your hands are,” he muttered. His comment sent blood sliding down my body toward my dick, and I noticed his breathing picked up slightly. Fuck, how did I ever convince myself that I wasn't affected by him?

“About as talented as that mouth of yours…”

The words escaped me before I realized what I'd said. Rhys' gasp was audible across the table and his pupils dilated with lust. My cock hardened under my zipper and a fire ignited in my groin. I wanted to chase the blush that ran down his throat with my tongue to see if he tasted as sweet as I imagined. My bones were vibrating with need. I wanted my hands on him more than my next breath.

Before I could register how epically stupid a decision it was, I stood up. “Follow me,” I commanded.

Rhys' eyes widened and he gripped the booth tightly, his knuckles white from effort. “Cal, that's not a good idea,” he whispered, but I could see the desire pooling in his gaze.

“I wasn't asking, Rhys. Be a good boy and follow me,” I warned. I turned and headed for the bathrooms, knowing without a doubt he'd follow. The thought had satisfaction flooding my veins, his submission a heady aphrodisiac.

I checked that the single bathroom was empty and pushed in, holding the door open for Rhys as he shyly snuck in two seconds later.

The moment the door was closed, I flipped the lock and shoved him against the wall, diving for his neck and licking a trail up to his ear. Rhys' moan and the light salty tang of his skin made precum leak out of my swollen head.

“Fuck, Rhys. I've spent days thinking about how it felt to have those perfect lips of yours wrapped around my cock,” I purred in his ear, reaching for his belt and undoing it quickly. Rhys gripped my waist with surprising strength, his body shivering against me.

“You have?” He asked in a shaky voice, fingers digging into my skin as I shoved his jeans down under his pert ass.

“That's right. Since the haunted house, I've thought of nothing else but getting my hands on you again and pouring myself down your throat,” I rasped as I peeled his boxers down. My palm was itching to touch him, feel the heat of him on me.

“I wanted to taste you that night.” Rhys let out a groan as I encircled his rigid length in my hand, pumping him slowly. His eyes were engrossed in the movement, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his flushed face.

Has he always been this…beautiful? What the fuck is happening to me right now?

“Not now,” I growled, his eyes snapping to mine. “We don't have long. Right now, you're going to fuck my hand until I drain you of every drop of cum. I want you to cover me in it so I smell you for hours, Sweetness.”

A whimper fell from his lips and fuck me, if it didn't go straight to my cock. I spit in my hand and started jacking him fast.

“Oh, God…Cal,” Rhys gasped, arms snaking around my neck and his head burrowing into my shoulder. His hips began a frantic pace, his dick rock hard and dripping down to smooth the friction in my hand. I clutched the back of his neck, cradling him to my chest as I worked him over.

The room was muggy with the scent of us, of Rhys and musk and need. My head was swimming, lust coating every nerve ending until I couldn't think straight. I was fixated on the feel of him in my arms and in my hand, wanting his orgasm like the delicious prize it was.

Rhys' breathing was coming in harsh pants, fingers digging into my shoulders as his body tightened up.

“Look at me,” I roughly whispered. His head lulled back until our gazes connected and my heart seized. “I want to see you when I wring you dry. Give me what I want. Give me your cum, sweet boy.”

Rhys tensed up and his mouth fell open on a silent scream, his eyes fighting to stay locked with mine as I watched that beautiful moment he fell over the edge. His cock jerked in my grasp, cum drenching my hand as I dragged out his climax with a relentless rhythm.

My eyes never left his and I was captivated by the pleasure that submerged him, the violet hue drowned in the intensity of his release. I wanted to drown right alongside him.

He slumped into my arms as his orgasm faded, heavy breaths hitting the side of my neck and sending a shiver down my spine. Once he was steady enough, I released him and stepped back to grab paper towels to clean up. I wiped us both off and tucked him back into his jeans, the whole time feeling him stare at me.

When I looked back up, his face was a mask of confusion. “What about you?” he asked.

“That was just for you, Sweetness. I owed you one, remember?” I smirked, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He subtly leaned into my touch and I felt my heartbeat down in the pit of my stomach.

“That was one hell of an apology, Hawkins. Good job,” he quipped, a smile slowly taking over his face.

“Does that mean I'm forgiven?” I joked, my own smile mirroring his.

“I'll take it into consideration, but you have a lot to make up for. You're like, five percent forgiven now.”

“Ouch! Your rates are steep, Evans. That was at least ten percent. I'm feeling jipped here,” I teased as we exited the bathroom and headed back to the table.

“You need to recalibrate your scale if you think that was worth ten percent,” Rhys said flippantly.

“Wow. With you around, who needs self-esteem? You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“I thought you said I was the special one?”

“Fake news. I don't recall saying that.”

His soft laugh reached me through the noise of the restaurant and it drew one from me reflexively. A sated serenity fell over us, and I soaked up the feeling of being with him like this, absent of hatred and revenge. He was right. I had a lot to make up for, but this seemed like a good start. We finished our food and talked for another hour.

I left feeling lighter than I had in years with a ridiculous smile plastered to my face.